


blue sunflowers

by illwoosion



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst??, Hanahaki Disease, Highschool AU, M/M, also some hohong but shh, hongho friends!, lots of stuff on blood and vomiting!!! pls don't read if you can't handle that, slight bit of minhwa, yunho is in love with mingi, yunho is literally best boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illwoosion/pseuds/illwoosion
Summary: it pains hongjoong to see yunho live solely for song mingi, when he forgets to live for himself. yunho's eyes are bright and his personality resembles none other than a big golden retriever, but only hongjoong sees the flash of fear and flecks of disgust that litter the toilet bowl with blood and petal blossoms after the simplest, small eye contact with mingi.jeong yunho lives solely for song mingi, and no one else. and for that, he suffers the consequences.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi
Comments: 41
Kudos: 99





	1. 𝘶𝘯

**Author's Note:**

> tw | ⚠️ this book contains graphic depictions of vomiting, details of blood and mentions of death. please read with care.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

it started in his second term of his penultimate year of high school.

first came the constant butterflies that tortured his insides.  
_(he'd gone to the doctor's thinking it was anxiety)._

then, the incessant dry coughing.  
_(it was the winter, after all- he was sure the whole school had been infected with a vicious cold)._

followed by coughing up his own blood.  
_(that was scary- he and his mother had cried together for hours, which hadn't helped his sore throat at all)._

so it was only a matter of time until he started vomiting baby pink petals soaked in his cherry blood  
_(his retching had echoed throughout the school bathroom that was thankfully deserted during his third class)._

yunho was no stranger to the disease he realised he had.  
**_hanahaki_** , they called it.

a japanese folklore originating in japan where a sufferer of unrequited love would vomit flower petals.

as a massive nerd, yunho knew about the so-called myth. he'd read most books on it, and it was safe to say that he was fascinated with the concept. but he never expected it to come true, let alone happen to him.

_he was only seventeen, for crying out loud,_ he'd told himself. _how could he have fallen in love?_

currently, yunho is watching (or staring) across the biology classroom at a boy with floppy brown hair who's screaming endless strings of curse words over the small frogs the class had been given to dissect.

_song mingi_ was his name.

" _yunho_ , _watch_ _it_!" yunho finally snaps out of his daze. stupidly, he's managed to cut himself with the scalpel."ah, sorry," he says to his concerned lab partner, wooyoung, and he makes his way to the first-aid kit at the back of the room.

coincidentally, the teacher had finally had enough of mingi's profanities (seriously, the boy had used some utterly _filthy_ words) and sent him to the principal's office.

he passes yunho, and yunho chokes up a spot of fresh, scarlet blood onto his hand. mingi spares a short glance at him, and nothing more.

yunho's heart squeezes, and once mingi leaves the room, he spits bitterly into the sink, painting the white porcelain with red.

"woah, bro, that's a lot of blood. how deep did you cut yourself?" wooyoung asks, suddenly appearing at his side.

"it's nothing," yunho replies, eyes fixed on the door where **the boy he** **loves** stood five seconds ago.

_it's nothing_ , he repeats to himself unconvincingly.

**—**

**_hanahaki:_ **

_—"in which a boy suffers the consequences of loving someone who doesn't love him back."_

_/hanahaki disease: an illness in which the sufferer regurgitates flower petals as a result of unrequited love._

the term **_hanahaki_** comes from the japanese words **hana** (花), which means "flower", and **hakimasu** (吐きます), which means "to throw up". the disease can be can be cured via two ways: through _surgery_ (the catch: the sufferer can never love that person again. this option is rarely chosen, since most prefer to keep their pride)  
or _death_.

over time, if their infatuation continues, the sufferer's lungs will fill with blossoms and roots will crowd their respiratory system, causing death. death can also occur if the person believes the one they love will never love them back (losing hope).

**—**

**_start book?_**  
**yes** **|** no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! if you're reading this then thanks!! please enjoy n ill try to update as regularly as I can :)
> 
> you can find me on twitter @jonghocafe and wattpad @1117MIN !! take care <3


	2. 𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘹

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

a " _yunho_? _earth_ _to yunho? hello?_ " brings said boy back to earth from his mindless daydreaming. he finds himself to be in the middle of the school cafeteria, with the stench of greasy fries and two-day-old pizza filling his nostrils. opposite him, is a mop of violent red hair stealing his last few fries that must've probably gone cold at this point. eighteen-year-old kim hongjoong, now in his last year of high school (and in the year above yunho) was quite frankly his only friend in this godforsaken place. not because yunho was hated or rude, but rather people saw him as the 'weirdo' and 'freak'.

and it's not like his condition went in his favour; whilst only hongjoong and his mother knew about his disease, the whole town, if not, the whole _universe_ , knew about yunho's infatuation with a certain boy five feet away from him, two tables down.

yunho knows he's been staring for far too long, but he can't help it; he drinks up the sight of wavy brown locks and high cheekbones, porcelain skin dotted with a constellation of moles. intimidating eyes lit up by a million milky-ways when paired with a signature gummy smile. it's a face he could draw perfectly with eyes closed and pen in his left hand.

sometimes, yunho thinks this love curse brought upon him must be worth it, because it was like loving song mingi was the only thing he was made to do since being put onto the planet.

hongjoong follows yunho's eyes with mild curiosity, even though he knows the cause of the lovestruck expression adorned on his friend's face all too well. all he does is sigh and pout at his empty plate; there's not point in engaging in conversation with yunho whilst he's dreaming of song mingi's lips (yunho's resorted to licking his lips subconsciously every ten seconds), something he's had to learn the hard way.

it pains him to see his close friend live solely for song mingi, when he forgets to live for himself. yunho's eyes are bright and his personality resembles none other than a big golden retriever, but only hongjoong sees the flash of fear and flecks of disgust that litter the toilet bowl with blood and petal blossoms after the simplest, small eye contact with mingi. the thing that hurts the most, however (if it could get any worse), was that to song mingi, jeong yunho was nothing more than a slight nuisance in his life. of course he was aware of yunho's adoration, and of course he was roped into teasing jabs made yunho's way, and that boiled hongjoong anger and got on is every last nerve.

but deep down, he's grateful. thankful that when people bully yunho and use song mingi's name to cut further wounds, he never joins in. the tall boy will sigh at yunho's flaring red cheeks and dipped head, and politely ask the others to stop. it's the least he could do, but hongjoong knows that the day mingi snaps at yunho, the puppy-eyed boy will die.

he means that metaphorically and literally, sadly. hongjoong has done his research, and if yunho loses hope and starts to believe song mingi will never love him back, he will die. it's lucky yunho was born his his overly-optimistic mindset and determined attitude.

jeong yunho lives solely for song mingi, and no one else.

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm these chapters are pretty short, but I'm gonna try and update regularly!! if you're reading this, then thank you and ily <3


	3. 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘪𝘴

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

it's fifth period when yunho finds himself sticking his head down the toilet bowl.

fickle blood and soft cherry blossom petals are harder to aim down the drain than just normal vomit. fortunately, he's perfectly mastered the technique on heaving the contents from his stomach directly into the toilet without splattering blood and god knows what else everywhere.

he wipes his mouth for a split second, regains his breath, and throws up again. his stomach acid mingling with thick, honeyed blood prickles his throat, and occasionally, the odd leaf sticks in his throat, slightly choking him. it's horrific, really, they state yunho's left in afterwards.

today, however, he's having particularly more trouble with his disease- it's ever-temperamental and rebellious bouts of unexpected blood filling up the bowl more than usual. it feels like it's been decades of squatting in the locked cubicle of the abandoned boy's bathroom, throwing up his guts.

now this, was the most undesirable part of his romanticised illness.

yunho thinks he hears footsteps enter the bathroom (he's chosen the smelliest, dingiest, mouldiest bathroom in the school, and nobody with basic standards ever came here to do their business), but he's unable to dwell on that possibility as his head disappears once again. he's good at keeping quiet usually, but today, his hanahaki disease has other plans. his retching fills the whole room, leaving yunho's throat in excruciating pain and his mind reeling.

he crosses his fingers whilst vomiting (at this point, there's blood on the floor now. no matter how careful yunho is, it's inevitable), praying he is alone and-

"hello? are you alright in there?"

_fuck. of course._

song mingi, _in all his barstard glory_ , had to be the one to stumble into the same bathroom as him.

his deep voice echoes through the empty bathroom as it finally registers in yunho's mind why suddenly, the hot blood is pouring faster than ever out of his throat.

it takes minutes of more obnoxious retching and flowery spluttering before he can answer.

"hi! yeah, all good in here, sorry 'bout the noise 'n' all," he replies, his eyes peeking behind him, where all-too familiar black trainers are standing just outside his cubicle.

"do you... need any help?"

it takes a few more minutes, but thankfully, he stops vomiting blood. but yunho knows the worst is yet to come. a coughing fit starts up, dry wheezing replacing the retching, and floaty blossoms stick to the roof of his bloody mouth. the petals fills his mouth rapidly and threaten to suffocate him as he resorts to pulling them out with long fingers reaching down his throat to clear his airways.

he counts a solid _forty-two seconds_ before he can safely breathe again. he almost hopes mingi has given up and left by now, but a quick glance behind reveals shows that he still haven't moved an inch.

( _at least if yunho was going to fall in love with anyone, it wasn't a complete asshole he had to be head over heels for,_ he thinks bitterly.)

"no, no! it's all fine here, don't worry, haha!" he responds thickly, the caked blood in his throat slightly slurring his speech.

his heart leaps at the chance to have _the_ song mingi help him up and comfort him, but he knows there's only so much his flower-filled lungs can take in one day.

"... you sure?" the uncertainty and uncomfortable-ness mingi exudes seeps into the atmosphere, and partnered with the unmistakable stench of metal, makes yunho want to melt into the floor in embarrassment. it'd be a stretch to pray the boy opposite the graffitied cubicle door didn't recognise his voice, but he keeps his fingers crossed anyway.

"yes! seriously, i'm okay, thanks though!" yunho maintains his falsely optimistic and painfully cheerful attitude, because if he reveals he's anything but, he'll crumble and break like shattered glass.

"okay. well then, go to the nurse's office or something, okay?"

_song mingi, ever the gentleman._

yunho puts up two weak thumbs-up, even though mingi can't see them.

"got it, thanks!"

"uh, see you around." and with that, heavy footsteps mark mingi's exit, and yunho breaths a sigh of exhaustion. suddenly, it feels like he's run ten marathons and scaled the statue of liberty, and his mouth feels as dry as the sahara.

"see you," he replies belatedly, shoulders slumped over the toilet seat. overhead, a muffled bell rings, signalling the end of class, and the muted chattering of students accompany him in his lonely stall. obviously, nobody enters the particular bathroom, so yunho is left wondering why mingi was even in here in the first place.

he hiccups a little sakura flower and sighs. he should probably get up and clean the floor before the stubborn drying blood sticks.

**—**


	4. 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

sometimes, yunho likes to entertain the hypotheticals- the maybes, the what-ifs, the what-could-have-beens.

he supposed, if he'd never developed this _stupid_ hanahaki disease, he would've been a singer. perhaps, even an idol (on the days he wasn't truly exhausted from his condition, his dancing was impeccable, if he does say so himself). if not, then he'd own a café, one where the highschool kids would come before and after school with friends, and where the hours in between the school rush, he'd sit with customers and reserve their favourite pastries for them.

(deep down, yunho doesn't mean it when he insults his disease. sure, it's extremely debilitating and a lot to handle, but in some _sick_ , _bittersweet_ way, he wouldn't have it any other way.)

(besides, he thinks it's _a_ _little_ _bit_ worth it when he finds a particular gummy-smiling boy constantly glancing at him from the other side of the maths classroom the day after the bathroom fiasco.)

by the end of maths, yunho has to lie to his seatmate about a bleeding lip (he bites his perfectly hydrated lips to sell it), and he's too afraid to drink water to wash out the pungent taste of flowers in case he regurgitates everything up.

the same happens in physics and again in biology, which gives yunho a serious case of déjà vu throughout the day.

as he breaks away from the deliberate eye contact mingi is making for the umpteenth time, he allows himself to think about the irony of the situation. it was unsettling, really, how the tables had turned, and yunho was now the one looking away and avoiding the other. he'd feel totally badass if the flowerheads tickling the back of his throat weren't a constant reminder of who was truly the loser in this situation.

it's not like yunho is totally aware of how his life lies in hands of a boy yelling into his dozing friend's ear to wake them up, only to be whacked over the head. he knows, when the day comes where mingi decided he's had enough of him (his heart twinges and the taste of metal lies heavy on his tongue), the roots in his respiratory system will have a field day and finally kill him off.

it's not a pleasant thought, so he shudders it away and closes his eyes, drifting into what he hopes will be a short nap.

yunho barely drowns out the " _miss! i've pricked my finger in the scalpel, let me go to the nurse's please!"_ and the " _song mingi, the scalpels have only been out for thirty seconds_ ", so he's shocked to feel warm hands urgently tap his shoulder and shake the sleepiness off of him.

there he is, _song_ _mingi_ , staring down at yunho's bleary eyes. he'd fall back asleep and tell himself _it's_ _all_ _a very nice dream_ , if the entire class's eyes weren't on them right now.

" _psst, let's go_."

" _hmm_?"

"you need to take me to the nurse's office." he waves a bleeding pinky in yunho's face, and he almost goes cross-eyed trying to follow it.

"m'kay." and with too many vigilant and curious eyes followed by the teacher's disapproving ones, the two boys leave the classroom suspiciously.

they walk a good few metres away from the classroom, and mingi pulls him aside from the view of any ditching classmates walking past.

" _why are you at school today?_ " yunho wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of the circumstances they're in.

"same reason as you. it's government requirement." the look mingi gives him wipes the smirk off his face and leaves him feeling _tiny_ , even though he's six foot three and just a smidge taller than the other. mingi just rolls his eyes and sighs (yunho thinks he'll throw up, right here, straight onto the love of his life).

"i mean, yesterday you sounded really sick. like, _get-yourself-to-a-hospital-stat_ kind of ill. don't start, i know it was you," he says sharply, cutting off yunho's refutes. he hadn't decided wether to completely and outright lie to mingi's face about yesterday, but it'd be an insult to mingi's intelligence if he tried.

"yeah, i'm fine," he says off-handedly, trying to seem somewhat casual. hilariously, he was not fine. mingi is standing terrifyingly close to him right now to keep their public conversation as private as he can. which isn't necessary- nobody is out skiving lessons right now. yunho knows his voice sounds strained, which mingi could misconstrue as yunho being bashful, when in truth he's really just trying to stop stomach acids and cherry blossoms from greeting his face.

"no offence, but you don't look fine." yunho knows after the last day's events, he doesn't look model-perfect (his cheeks were much, much puffier than usual, and his eyes were constantly watery from the aftermath of exerting every muscle in his throat. in short, he looked like utter shit), so mingi's statement is pretty acceptable. if he were with hongjoong, he'd reply with a sarcastic " _pfft, when do i ever look fine?"_ with a snort, but he can't say that, not to _song mingi._

"it's okay, i feel fine. how's your finger?" he asks. talking about his problems to the boy who was unknowingly causing them felt way too uncomfortable for yunho to carry on a somewhat normal conversation. plus, it's not like he's counting or anything, but it's probably the longest conversation they've ever had. mingi makes a slight noise of confusion, looks at the closed scab on his pinky, and shrugs. he throws another drawling look yunho's way, as if to say " _dude, are you serious?_ ".

silently, yunho watches as mingi reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small children's plaster*. it's adorned with a cartoon tiger and ' _roar_!', and suddenly, yunho is reminded of how much he would like to hug the boy in front of him. he's lucky he's grown accustomed to these feeling and knows how to (somewhat) control them.

it's _mesmerising_ , the calm and innocent look of concentration painted onto mingi's face as he applies the tiny bandage to his pinky. yunho only watches, and focuses on the mole on his right cheek, and wonders what it'd be like to _kiss_ -

mingi whips his head up to look back at yunho, looking apprehensive.

_shit, he was staring._

before yunho can say anything, or collect his thoughts, mingi is walking back to their biology class, a tad too quick for yunho to naturally walk side-by-side with him. yunho puts his head down and clenches his mouth, praying to the gods he doesn't spew petals everywhere (it's a miracle he doesn't- he's not religious).

they enter whilst everybody is practising experiments, so they go pretty undetected and yunho slips into his seat next to his lab partner, wooyoung. his usually loud and obnoxious mouth shuts with a click when seeing yunho's serious expression, and decides to just quirk an eyebrow to ask " _so, what was that about?_ ".

thirteen minutes later ( _yes, he counted_ ), yunho asks to be excused to the bathroom, and barely makes it to the toilet bowl on time.

not only is he hit with waves of nausea, but also more stupid déjà vu from yesterday's events (and, _somehow_ , it's worse than yesterday).

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i wonder if there are actually real people reading this book. hmm guess ill never know ! if there are people reading, know that in this vast world, i love you! and i hope you're all having happy days and staying safe!!  
> ps. happy yunho day !! can't believe the nation's boyfriend is turning 21 omg <3


	5. 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘲

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

yunho peers unenthusiastically down at his soggy lunch, picking and playing at the food with his fork. the cafeteria is characteristically boisterous, as per usual, and yunho knows to put his head down and keep it like that until the final bell rings for the end of lunch and he's knows for sure he's safe.

unfortunately, hongjoong isn't here to accompany him, and the lack of flashing red hair and brilliant white teeth makes yunho feel as lonely as ever. he frowns a bit more- he swears he saw hongjoong at his locker before second period (it's hard to miss the neon red), and they always sit together.

he takes a glance to his right, where some kids are teasing some other loner, pinching him and throwing mean-spirited insults at him. yunho's careful not to make any eye contact that'll get him in trouble, since without hongjoong, he's a much bigger target than usual.

(not that he needs hongjoong; he's a good head taller than the bullies, but for once, he doesn't want to bother the floppy-haired boy sitting happily with his friends, with his cheeks (yunho still dreams about the mole on his right cheek) bulging with lunch. plus, hongjoong's hair resembles that of the bright colours certain animals like fish of frogs will display to scare off predators; no one wants to anger the short-tempered, short ketchup-bottle.)

the cafeteria starts to filter out a bit ten minutes before the bell, and maybe, _he can finally relax_ , he thinks.

when yunho gathers enough effort to shove a depressing chunk of macaroni into his mouth, shadows cross his plate, and all yunho can think is _he really was getting too lucky to have avoided an encounter with bullies for so long, and the streak had to end at some point._

"all alone _again_ , jeong yunho?"

"haven't you got anything better to do, jinyoung?" he sighs, looking up at the smug boys itching to cause havoc.

"i just think," jinyoung announces to the remaining audience in the lunch hall loudly, "it's pitiful how you sit here alone, living everyday knowing nobody is ever gonna want someone as _pathetic_ as you." yunho stares straight a head, using a forkful of mushy pasta to cover up the tang of blood threatening to spill on his tongue. it's not like the statement hurts him (he's heard it a million times before), but the flowers blooming inside him beg to differ.

"maybe, we should help you," the leering figure suggests, his tone implying he'll do anything but. the cronies by his side (yunho hasn't bothered to remember names) smirk amongst one another, and yunho knows what's coming next. each time yunho is teased, whether it be by the same or different people, it always leads back to _song_ _mingi_ , one way or another, like a broken record.

it's tiring for yunho- as much as the mere glimpse of mingi is a sight for sore eyes, the root crawling up the back of his throat is scratchy and brings harsh tears to the breaking point. he's reminded once again how _cruel_ this curse brought upon him could be, when he's pushed out of his seat painfully and dragged to mingi's table.

it looks like he's crying out of embarrassment, but in reality, yunho's throat (and mental well-being) hasn't fully recovered from the events of yesterday's happenings and the day before's (his heart can't take it for much longer), so it's no wonder mingi's friends peer up at him with mild concern.

and mingi, _well_ , he's used to this, isn't he?

it's all a game of the knight rescuing the poor, sad princess, and mingi is always there to save the day; _yunho's_ _hero_.

(the hero gets tired of being the saviour, eventually.)

yunho is blinking back angry tears now. angry and humiliated at himself for having such a weak heart and for loving song mingi.

(though, the worst part is, he knows deep down. he could never find it in himself to be mad at loving mingi, the boy who's leading yunho away from the table and jeering crowd with gentle hands and soft sighs.)

"m'sorry," he mutters, aiming to look anywhere but at mingi's face. he focuses on mingi's shoes instead- black and white checkered sneakers, scruffy and caked with dirt, but still showing a fading scrawl of a handdrawn smiley face.

yunho has to look away at that, too. _he's weak-hearted;_ he said it before.

"what was-" mingi's question is cut off by a small cough from yunho.

_ah, fuck._

blood dots his hand as he spits out a single, disheveled cherry blossom petal. they're both silent as they turn to look make eye contact in unison.

and then yunho is running, blood churning in his throat and whole flowerheads begging to be freed from his lungs.

_hopefully, mingi knew better than to come looking for him_ , he prays, as he watches flowers (not just petals- a sign his condition is worsening) spiral down the toilet ten minutes later.

the bell only just rings to mark the end of the lunch period as yunho unlocks the cubicle door, bleary-eyed with bloody teeth.

what he doesn't expect, is a familiar redhead leaning against the sinks, sweat beading his forehead.

" _hongjoong_?" his back is turned to yunho, but through the reflection of the mirror, yunho can see his friend doesn't look any better than he does right now.

the other only smiles weakly and wordlessly cups his hands under the grimy tap to drink some water. though yunho isn't one to judge, he can't help but scrunch his nose in disgust- hongjoong must really be thirsty if he's drinking from the bathroom taps like it's the first drink he's had in years.

it's a bit sad, really, the way yunho's only friend at school just so happens to be his only family friend (they're the fine line between friends and extremely distant cousins thrice removed, not sharing enough of the same blood to be considered actual family), but it works in both the boy's favour when all yunho has to do is give hongjoong a pointed look in the shape of question, and in return hongjoong gives out a sigh in the form of compliance.

he watches hongjoong cough into his hand (it sounds painful, and by the way his whole frame wracks and jolts at the violent force, it definitely _is_ painful), and offers his clenched fist for yunho to see.

then, he opens it, and honestly, yunho should probably be a little less surprised to find an outstretched handful of flowerheads nestled in cherry blood.

_oh_.

he holds hongjoong close to his chest and hugs him tight as the elder's tears soak his shirt. he asks no more questions and instead, does what the other has done for him so many times before: wipe his bloody hands, dry his tears, and offer a mint. it was inevitable that yunho was going to miss fifth period anyway, so he may as well skive off school and treat them both to ice cream.

in the quiet dessert parlour, they communicate through clinking spoons and unanswered questions, but thankfully, no tension lingers in the air. both of their throats are sore, and their eyes are still puffy, no doubt. they must look an odd pair to the servers.

finally, yunho can't bear it anymore, and decides to rip off the bandaid.

"how long?" he asks softly, paying attention to detail at the slight wince hongjoong tries to cover up.

" _too long_ ," he whispers, avoiding giving a proper answer. he sighs heavily, eyes casting down to his chocolate ice cream

" _a year and ten months._ " hongjoong's voice trails off at the end, barely mouthing the words, but yunho widens his eyes in surprise.

he himself had caught (he says 'caught' as if it were contagious- it's only the rare aftermath of a crush yunho had on mingi that he never quite got over that led him here) the disease five months ago, and was still growing accustomed to the ever-changing degrees of pain he felt day after day.

_hongjoong has felt that pain for one year and ten months._

the first thought that comes to yunho's mind is ' _how is he still alive?_ ', and the second is ' _why has hongjoong never mentioned this to him before?_ '.

he's sure his closest friend had good reason, but he can't help but feel embarrassed at the way hongjoong knows all about his crush on starry-eyed song mingi whilst he knows nothing about whoever has captured hongjoong's heart.

he knows hongjoong isn't one to give his heart away to just anybody (contrary to yunho), so out of anybody he could've found in the bathroom, hongjoong is the biggest surprise he could've found.

" _don't tell,_ " his friend says hoarsely, " _no one else knows_."

he's itching to ask who it is, but in the state hongjoong is in, he knows better than to keep prodding for today, at least.

" _okay_ ," he replies, hand resting on hongjoong's much smaller one to provide comfort. hongjoong, like lightning, removes his hand from the touch, as if scolded by heat. he looks like a cat ready to pounce, and yunho is so, _so_ confused.

they finish their ice cream in silence, and the servers give them a five percent discount topped with sympathy.

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to this quarantine, the chapter lengths get longer with each update and i literally post chapters every day to stave off the boredom lmao.  
> if ur reading this, take care!! x


	6. 𝘴𝘪𝘹

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

the final bell ringing out to start first period is when yunho spots hongjoong, a flurry of scarlet scrambling to retrieve books from his locker. it seems, after the mishaps of yesterday, both boys had slept in, and were now late for their first class.

yunho's academic priorities are shifted today, however, and he longs to have a proper talk with hongjoong (he wouldn't know what to say, but that's besides the point), but he's sprinting away just as yunho starts to approach him. but it's a 'no hard feelings' situation though, as hongjoong spots him and waves happily.

and then his friend's eyes widen, and he shoots him an oddly sympathetic look laced with what looks like pity

_huh_? he thinks, frowning to himself.

it stays with yunho as he walks into history ten minutes late, and he slips into his seat at the back confused and dazed.

his seatmate, san (one of mingi's friends, yunho recognises. perhaps that's why san tolerates him rather than belittles him like everyone else), looks at him with unusually wide eyes, leaving yunho to gnaw on his bottom lip and wallow in anxiety throughout the whole lesson. san, who never really acknowledges yunho, but is somewhat an acquaintance, pats yunho on the shoulder timidly as he leaves the classroom like everyone else at the end of the class.

_what is going on_? he wonders.

san's not the only one treating him with pity- he swears a million pairs of eyes scan over his face during the morning, searching for something yunho doesn't quite know. is he supposed to be acting differently than usual? he has girls smile at him in corridors (he's gay) and boys doing that weird bro-code nod at him, as if something terribly tragic had happened to him overnight.

needless to say, he barely manages to stay sane through third period, when even the teacher spares him of answering questions during the lesson, throwing in a sympathetic smile for good measure.

it's a relief when the bell calls for the lunch break, and yunho flops into the seat opposite hongjoong, throwing his tray with rigour onto the table.

"swap seats with me?" hongjoong asks somewhat innocently.

(the title 'family friends' means yunho knows exactly when hongjoong is hiding something- nails picking at the nail varnish on his pinky, bitten lips tugged between teeth, body rigid and tense.)

kim hongjoong is _shit_ at hiding things.

" _why_?" he asks suspiciously, eyebrow raised, "what are you hiding from me?"

"i'm not hiding anything! just please, swap with me, just for today."

yunho sighs dramatically (of course, he's not mad or anything, but the morning has been so nerve-wracking, that he just wants a part of today to run smoothly for once) and stands to move. hongjoong does too, his movements quicker and more jittery than his own.

and that's when he sees it.

hongjoong being horrifically short and himself being ginormously tall meant that from over red hair, yunho watches as a boy drapes his arms over mingi's shoulders in a very romantic, boyfriend-like way.

_a boy that wasn't him._

yunho didn't even know mingi went for guys, but it would've hurt a little less it it'd been a girl wrapped around the love of his life, and not someone of his gender.

" _oh_ ," he says, and that's that.

suddenly everything makes sense: the looks of sympathy. the bro-code nods. san's shoulder-tap.

it was because song mingi had scored himself a boyfriend, a boy that wasn't jeong yunho.

hongjoong sighs heavily (they're both still standing- as much as yunho wants to move, he can't. his legs are glued to the floor and his eyes are fixed on his tray)

"i didn't know how to tell you. i'm sorry you had to find out like that."

"no, no, yeah. yeah, it's fine. had to happen sometime, i guess," he chuckles weakly. bile crawls up his throat and then yunho is running, sprinting far, far away to the precious safety of the mouldy bathrooms he now considers his second home.

the day song mingi finds a boyfriend is the same day yunho finds that there are more flowerheads to count than petals swimming in his blood, and more pain in his whole body he has ever registered.

familiar hands rub yunho's back as streams of flowers emerge from his dry mouth (hongjoong's slipped under the locked cubicle door, he realises) and it feels like hours until everything has gotten out of his system. he's wheezing; painful, harsh breathing ricochets off the concrete walls.

and then it finally clicks. song mingi really is not in love with him.

yunho cries for the first time in five months (the last time had been when he and his mother found out about his illness), and it's an ugly sobbing that leaves hongjoong's heart breaking into two pieces. he cradles the much taller boy in his arms, and yunho feels like a baby. he feels so broken and hopeless and _heartbroken_ , and it's all because of a boy with crescent eyes and fluffy hair.

"you know you can't give up," hongjoong whispers once his sobs have ceased to sniffles, " _you know what'll happen_."

they both know what'll happen; the obnoxious truth- if the sufferer of hanahaki loses hope in their feelings being reciprocated, their illness and symptoms will grow increasingly worse.

if yunho gives up on song mingi, **he will die.**

yunho's heart breaks a little more (if that were even possible), and for once, he curses at the world.

stupid love. stupid illness. stupid song mingi, with his handsome genes and infuriatingly soft lips.

stupid mingi, who's been so patient with yunho, even if he did so reluctantly.

stupid mingi, who yunho can't escape from, if he values his life.

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this took me so long to publish when it's honestly the worst chapter i've ever produced!! i'll try and make the next chapter so much better omg please bear with me!


	7. 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘵

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

mingi's boyfriend is a boy called _park seonghwa._

he's in the same year as hongjoong, with ridiculous doe eyes and jet-black hair that gleams in the sunlight. and that's about all yunho knows.

seonghwa's visuals alone make him a prince. and yunho can't help but feel bitter about it.

yunho has grown to learn that song mingi, by nature, is an extremely affectionate boy- always clinging onto his friends and seeking every form of physical affection under the sun. this new relationship of his is no different, and as much as he tries to block out the hand-holding and cheek kisses mingi gives and receives freely on a minutely basis, yunho can't avert his eyes quickly enough to avoid watching them.

it's been a few days now, and yunho hasn't spoken to mingi since he coughed up blood in his face (mingi hasn't acknowledged him either. yunho thinks mingi's given up helping him, which he understands. he's a lost cause, after all), and everyone has told yunho to just give up.

first, san in history patted his shoulder and told him " _plenty of fish in the sea, right?_ ".  
then there was wooyoung in biology, exasperated at yunho for botching up their cell samples for the third time.

_(_ yunho could see the frustration etched deeply onto wooyoung's face, and he'd wanted to claw his own heart out right then and there and stomp on it in the middle of the damned classroom. because he'd prefer it if wooyoung actually yelled at him, instead of giving him the sad, piteous look everyone else had been giving him for the past couple days. yunho was tired of being sighed at and patted on the head like a sad dog about to be euthanised. though he didn't complain too much about the small bag of sweets someone had left in his locker as consolation.)

buried in the pit of yunho's heart is an itching hopelessness gnawing desperately through the flower buds that seem to grow bigger and bigger by the day. but what's larger than his hopelessness is the frustration of not being able to fully let go of the starry-eyed boy pinching his boyfriend's cheeks and carefully feeding him convenient store snacks. because even if he wanted to let go (secretly, he doesn't), he can't, because _he'll_ _die_ \- he'll die a painful death if he gives up, and yunho definitely isn't known for being a quitter.

(also, he's frustrated he isn't park seonghwa. but nobody needs to know that.)

he's resorted to just sleeping ( _or_ _pretending_ _to_ , _at_ _least_ ) whenever he's within mingi's vicinity, because he's so used to scoping him out and daydreaming about him during his breaks, that at this point, if yunho so much as makes accidental eye contact with mingi, he'll probably throw up everywhere.

thankfully, he still has hongjoong to keep him company. their lunch routine goes as follows: yunho buys his lunch, keeps his eyes on his shoes until hongjoong arrives at their table, and then sleeps until the final bell rings and everyone but them are left in the cafeteria. during this time, they barely speak, but words aren't necessary. hongjoong knows more than anyone what yunho is feeling, and the guilt and selfishness of dragging his (only) friend into his stupid mess continues to plague his mind and add to the limitless list of worries yunho has.

it seems like hongjoong doesn't mind sitting in the silence with yunho and being in the prime zone for the whole cafeteria to stare at. he eats his food without a care and steals yunho's too (yunho never eats during school anymore; it's bad enough vomiting the blood and flowers, and kimchi jiggae never cooperates well with it.)

hongjoong still hasn't told him who exactly he loves, but he doesn't seem to be as heartbroken as yunho. or, that's what he thinks, anyway.

it's during lunch period, when hongjoong finally tries to goad yunho into small talk in an admirable attempt to return their routine back to normality.

"you could at least eat a few fries, yunho-ssi."

"it burns." hongjoong nods at that in acceptance; some foods just weren't worth eating when they'd come back up with flowers and cause twice the pain when throwing up. even if that meant they had to sacrifice fried food for the rest of their lives ( _tragic_ ).

a comfortable silence washes over them. sometimes, yunho feels like it's just them two against the world, and the boisterous cafeteria dies into white noise, song mingi and park seonghwa becoming non-existent with it. he hopes there are times where hongjoong catches a break from his illness too.

"you'll get over it soon. this is the worst part; it'll get better in a couple weeks."

" _yeah_? you speaking from personal experience or what?"

(hongjoong flinches, and yunho's scathing words instantly wither in his mouth, leaving a sour and ugly taste on his tongue. of course, he doesn't mean to be so rude, especially not to the boy who's been nothing but kind to him, so the choking guilt knocks the breath out of his lungs and he makes eye contact with him for a record-breaking second time. he reaches out his hand to brush against hongjoong's as a silent apology. with a sigh, hongjoong accepts.)

"yeah, i am. _so_ _trust_ _me_ ," hongjoong says with finality, another exhausted sigh leaving his lips. he brushes his thumb over yunho's knuckles as reassurance, and it's enough for yunho to push his head back down and close his eyes.

the next day brings the worst symptoms he's ever faced.

as per normal, he gets to school early, sits outside for a bit, waits for hongjoong until the bell rings for registration. the usual.

what isn't normal, however, is the scene playing out in slow-motion right under his nose as he walks into the school building.

there's song mingi, _his_ _protagonist_ , clutching a bouquet of yellow sunflowers wrapped in gorgeous paper, fresh and luminously bright. in front of him, is none other than _park_ _seonghwa_ , hand intertwined with the other's. their faces are painted with happiness and-

_they almost look in love_.

it doesn't take long for yunho to realise there's no room in this scene for him. if anything, he's the antagonist in their love-story; the villain.

he stares a second too long before ducking his head and rushing to the place he knows best- the bathrooms.

now this is a scene yunho knows all too well: watching the flowers soaked in vehement blood swirling down the toilet bowl fresh from his stomach.

only this time, there's a plot-twist.

there's something stuck in his throat, and he can't get it out no matter how hard he coughs; he's spluttering and choking and suffocating and fearful tears stream down his puffy face. he claws desperately down his throat, and is relieved when he can finally breathe.

his scarlet fingers pull out a long, soft thing; it's light and fragile and delicate, and coated in so much blood yunho can't quite make out what it is.

he wipes it on his school shirt.

he discovers it's a sunflower petal, burning bright yellow and glaring back mockingly at him.

yunho stares and stares at it until he's thrown back into a relentless coughing fit and pulling out endless streams of the unfamiliar yellow petals that remind him only of song mingi.

_this is the day he learns sunflowers are song mingi's favourite flowers._

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to make a writing schedule instead of posting like once in a lifetime, so just bear with me please TT
> 
> also, i'm planning another ateez fic!! it'll be a while before i publish it, but it'll be pretty long so i'm excited to get it out!!
> 
> i hope you're all doing well!! stay safe and take care <33 i love you!


	8. 𝘩𝘶𝘪𝘵

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

yunho realises that he's spent so much time focused on not dying, that he hasn't realised that if he was at death's doorstep, then hongjoong had probably become best friends with thanatos by now.

hongjoong, his only friend, who's got the same unmerciful illness as him but a hundred times worse, should probably be dead by now. thank god he's known for having a steely determination and like yunho, refuses to quit. so it's thanks to hongjoong's sheer unbelievable willpower that he isn't dead yet.

_but he's close._

the steady beeping of the moniter behind yunho screening hongjoong's vital functions bears heavy cables and wires that map a labyrinth behind the hospital bed. a few lead up to hongjoong's pale, quivering arms.

if he ever thought hongjoong was tiny, then at this point, he was minuscule.

he was skinny before, but now, his friend is skeletal. he's a ghastly picture of protruding bone and skin stretched over muscle. hollow caves carve out cheekbones and the heavy bags under his glazed eyes. yunho's lips feel sore just by looking hongjoong's own- skin peels over icy blue lips, dry and cracked.

it's been a fortnight since song mingi got a boyfriend (this is how yunho has resorted to keeping track of the days), and a week since he took time off school to heal.

he's not even too sure of what's he's exactly healing from. heartbreak? was that a valid excuse to stay off school? either way, his throat is grateful for a break, and the stomach acid and blood and flower petals get to stay in their rightful place for once (though they refuse to stay ignores in his stomach for long, teething at the forefront of yunho's problems).

seven days without seeing hongjoong. and now, he's in the intensive care unit, attached to an IV drip and god knows what. in just one week, yunho doesn't know how hongjoong's health has deteriorated so quickly, and how his hanahaki disease had gotten so vicious in such a short amount of time.

hongjoong's throat is too raw for him to speak, and he lacks the energy to put pen to paper and communicate. so the two boys just sit there in comfortable silence, yunho's hand holding hongjoong's, déjà vu from their lunchtimes together.

until hongjoong's heart monitor beeps obnoxiously, uncontrollable and frantic. his friend's eyes are wide in shock, and his whole body shakes as he gags on air.

yunho's all too familiar with this situation.

in one swift movement, he grabs the small, plastic-lined bin from beside the end of the bed and holds it directly under hongjoong's chin. he can only watch as thick streams of hot blood and cherry blossoms hit the bottom with an echoing thud. retching and gasping fills the entire room, and thankfully, the curtains were already drawn around his cubicle in an attempt to snatch some sort of privacy between the other patients.

the potent smell of floral perfume and metal floats through the air and imprisons the two in a chokehold. a surge of nurses rush in, and hongjoong drowns in the blue-uniformed sea that swarms him. all yunho can do is step back, and pray.

yunho's never been religious; he's never believed in god. but he prays to whoever and whatever is out there to do everything they can to save his friend. he watches hopelessly as a hongjoong-shaped ball is wheeled into the emergency room amidst yelling nurses and frantic attempts to keep him conscious. more cables get attached, more frenzied beeping is heard. judging by the chaos surrounding the bed, yunho knows he has to pray harder, even if his attempts are futile.

oh, if yunho could meet whoever is causing hongjoong so much pain- the person hongjoong has been in love with all this time, but never told him who. it's almost impressive how secretive hongjoong has been. as much as he want to be, he cannot be angry at hongjoong for never opening up about his problems to yunho.

the minutes and hours fly by as yunho sits on a uncomfortable plastic chair, waiting outside the room hongjoong had been wheeled into. 'surgery in process' and 'do not pass this point' signs plaster onto the doors, blaring uncertainty and fear through his mind, and it feels like he's drowning- his surroundings, even though he's sitting amidst chaos, filter into mushy white-noise.

some time later, hongjoong's parents rush in, fear clawing at their features. they ask questions yunho can't answer, because he doesn't know what's going on either. they're crying, and the least he could do is hold their hands and pray with them. so he does.

the first time he actually decides to check the time, it's precisely 11:11pm.

(yunho won't say what he wished for, otherwise it won't come true.)

(and he can't afford that.)

the second time he checks the clock, it reads 2:25am. the nurses walk past him with empathy and respectfully leave him alone to sit there. his entire backside is numb, and even hongjoong's parents beside him have fallen asleep.

he tries to get at least some rest too, even if it's just five minutes of sleep, but as soon as he closes his bloodshot eyes, the surgery doors push open. there is no hongjoong-shaped ball, but there are more nurses. yunho sighs and slows his eyes again.

"mr and mrs kim?" the nurses stand above the three. the blinding white lights in the ward almost make them look like angels; like messengers sent by god.

it takes yunho a few seconds before he comes to senses, and shakes mrs kim awake.

gratefully, she clasps yunho's equally cold hand for comfort. god knows he needs it.

"follow me, please," the sombre doctor holding a clipboard says, rubber shoes squeaking across the linoleum floor as he walks away, expecting them to follow. they must assume yunho is a brother, since they don't tell him to leave or ask about his connection with hongjoong.

one look at the doctor, and he knows what to expect.

they reach the doctor's office, and sit down at the desk opposite the nurse. yunho's losing circulation in his hand now, what with mrs kim's hand squeezing it with inhumane strength. her knuckles are white and her hand shakes with her force but judging by her expression, she's not even aware of how numb she's making his hand. but he doesn't mind.

the doctor says a few words, and a high-pitching whining shoots through his brain. hongjoong's parents are crying, the doctor is apologising, and yunho is just sitting there, expressionless, numb. grief lays predator at the back of his throat, waiting patiently to throttle him any second.

this was all his fault.

he didn't check on hongjoong enough. instead, he plagued him with his own problems, and his stupid infatuation with song mingi.

every time, everything in yunho's life circles back to that name.

if he wasn't so focused on his own problems, then maybe hongjoong would still be here. maybe, if he'd bothered hongjoong a little bit more with asking who he was in love with, then he wouldn't be **dead**.

_yunho decides he doesn't believe in 11:11 wishes anymore._

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am the king of shitty updates omg i'm so sorry this is so bad, writer's block and lockdown haven't been the kindest to me. to whoever's reading, stay safe and take care!! <3


	9. 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘧

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

_dear yunho,_

if you're reading this, then it means this hanahaki disease has gotten the better of me. i'm sorry i couldn't hold on for longer.

i'm writing this to you at school, at our usual lunch table. currently, you're off school. which is good, you need the rest! i'd hate for you to end up like me.

i know i'm only eighteen, but i've had a lot of regrets over the years. the biggest one has been hiding this part of myself from you for so long.

i knew from that day you found me in the bathrooms, you were dying to ask questions. to be honest, you acted a lot calmer than i'd anticipated. but i'm sorry i couldn't answer your questions at the time.

in this letter, i'll be saying sorry a lot.

i've lived with this disease of one year and ten months, and i'd managed to hide it from everyone up until that day. i know my time is coming, and by the choices i've made, i'm painfully aware i might not make it to next month.

it was strange, because the first time i'd vomited and saw small flower blossoms, i wasn't that shocked. if anything, i was wondering why it hadn't happened sooner.

i'd been in love with someone way before that, but maybe i only got the disease that day, because it was the first time i'd realised.

march 23rd, 2018. do you remember that day?

it was your birthday, and even though our families had worked together to create a massive party for you, we still ended up sneaking out without anybody noticing.

the sun was setting, and i gave you your birthday gift.

seven months before that, we'd walked past a skateboard shop after school, and you had ran up to the window, breathing on the glass window in awe.

i think god had taken all the stars from all the universes, and put them in your eyes.

so i saved up money to buy you a skateboard. specifically, the one you'd been eyeing at the window (you thought you were being discreet when you kept looking back to stare at the shop. you weren't). you were mad at me all through the autumn season when school had started again, because i'd stopped hanging out with you. truthfully, i was just working part-time jobs after school, because i'd never be able to get the money otherwise.

and even though my heart broke every day i saw your sadness caused by me, it was all worth it in the end.

whole universes swam in your eyes when you unwrapped that skateboard. it took me days to reform the backside of it, because i wanted it to be a special and unique design, just for you. you told me sunflowers were your favourite flowers three years ago, and i never forgot. painting the petals on the wood was a pain in the ass.

but you smiled that puppy-dog grin at me, and flashed your galaxy eyes, and my stomach turned over.

we went back to your birthday party, and i threw up.

i was in love with you then, and i knew from that day forward, i was fucked.

i ate food at lunch to keep the flowers down, and never managed to make it on time to my fourth class (i went to the bathrooms on the other side of school, just to avoid you). i never told you, but i'd get teased for the excessive makeup i wore to hide the after effects of the disease. you thought i was weird when i constantly swallowed cough sweets and throat soothers (believe me, i hated the taste of them too).

i could never bring myself to tell you the truth. because nothing would change, anyway. you were in love with song mingi, not me.

knowing you, you'd probably force yourself to try and like me back, which would make _you_ more ill. in hindsight, i'm almost glad i kept this from you, even if you disagree.

i won't lie to you, it hurt so much. to just sit back and watch you get your heart broken over and over, and there was nothing i could do to help you, other than clean up your mess and rub your back. you look at him with your galaxy eyes like he's a supernova, and even when he blatantly ignores you, your stars never disappear.

i'm happy you have a chance, yunho. song mingi could still save you. don't give up. you have to keep going.

even if you have to resort to surgery, put yourself before anyone else. you are more than your disease, your infatuation. this is your life, not mingi's.

i never regretted loving you- i though there wasn't a better person i could've been in love with. thank you, for being my friend and for giving me more positive memories through the negative. thank you for giving my life meaning.

i'll always love you as a friend. you are the sun, yunho; this is your world. live for yourself.

_thank you._

_-hongjoong._

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think we're over halfway through the story now!! thank you for reading this far <3  
> i love you!


	10. 𝘥𝘪𝘹

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

it hurts.

_god, it hurts so badly._

grief is a monster that tears through his lungs and plunges thick claws into his flesh.

it's a silent killer that ravages through his heart and cuts him from the inside out.

it's a ravenous predator that eats and chews and devours everything he has to offer.

which isn't a lot, anymore.

yunho is a six feet tall tower of bones and skin. he is a canvas of blue-black bruises and yellowish tint, and barely has the energy to hold himself up, let alone push through the crowd of relentless whispers and gossip.

the guilt is worse.

guilt consumes yunho's entire being- the guilt of letting hongjoong down, not spending time with him before his final days, for making hongjoong fall in love with him.

if he thinks about it too much, then his heart will twist sharply, and his head will burst with the feeling over being so overwhelmed. guilt takes him apart bit by bit with bare hands, and then he's left to stitch himself back up each morning.

he's wasting away- a corpse with a beating heart, a nailed coffin on legs.

the only positive (if happiness could ever be found through this) in the darkness yunho was drowning in, is that his hanahaki disease had been merciful, and allowed yunho to recover for the time being. for now.

this was because yunho had no time to think about a certain scrunchy-eyed boy, and never searched for him through the sea of blank faces anymore. he's too focused on dragging his feet across school linoleum to make it through the days. he barely even thinks about him anymore.

_does song mingi miss his attention_ , he wonders. _probably not._

or maybe he does. because he's standing in front of yunho right now, waving a blurry hand in front of his face.

he's in yunho's way.

"yunho? _hey_ , are you listening? we need to talk." yunho can't imagine why.

_we don't need to talk_ , he thinks sourly, _i don't need to speak to you_.

he'd push the lanky boy out of his way if he had the energy. _god, why is everything so dizzy?_

"i need to go to second period," he mumbles quietly, toeing around mingi. but the other doesn't hear it and doesn't move.

"are you okay? you look like you're about to faint."

maybe, he will . yunho would welcome a coma with open arms- his dreams recently have been replaced with nightmarish images of hongjoong and cruel words and crushing guilt, so maybe, collapsing would be an effective way to finally get some rest.

yunho doesn't even remember the last time he'd eaten something.

he provides no response to the persistent boy (yunho can't even look at him; he's scared that if he throws up now, then that really might be too much for his body to handle) and stumbles over mingi's feet.

he's exhausted. he just wants to get to class.

song mingi has the audacity to grab his wrist and drag him (gently, but still with stength) away from yunho's destination. it's not like yunho _wants_ to be in chemistry right now, but he's still indignant, and protests well up in his throat.

mingi doesn't stop; he carries on until they're outside (yunho's tripping over air, his feet, mingi's feet, _everything_ ) and up to a tree.

the infamous tree, yunho recognises through hazy eyes, is the biggest on school grounds. it's shady, comfortable, and out of sight from any teachers seeking for skiving students.

"sit," mingi says, and yunho slumps against the trunk, splinters kissing his palms. it's the least of his problems, and nothing compared to the pain he's grown accustomed to over the past week.

"so, are- _wait_ , are you asleep?"

the blazing sun is warm and gentle on yunhos face, and it caresses and soothes his aching head. it's maternal comfort lulls him into a sense of security, telling him it's _fine_ , it's _okay_ , _he can sleep._

yunhos eyes are fluttering and he's way past the point of holding a conversation, but he hums in response to mingi, showing he's awake, but silently begging him to stop talking.

he's already out like a light before mingi can get another word in. he sighs quietly, drapes his jacket over yunho's limp body and pulls out a book from his backpack. the boy beside clearly needs sleep, the bags under his eyes cry for just five minutes of slumber, so mingi gives him that.

they sit for hours in the sun, well after second and third period, mingi silently reading and yunho _finally_ sleeping.

it's just after the final lunch bell blares across school when yunho finally stirs. and thankfully, he looks better than he has all week. sure, maybe the eyebags hadn't lifted, but mingi thinks some of yunhos natural glow is started to seep back into his skin (the sun smiles at them from above).

yunho rubs his eyes and blinks owlishly at his surroundings. he's not in his bed, but outside school, and beside him is song mingi, acting calm as if this were an everyday occurrence in their routine.

it was not.

" _what's going on?_ " he asks. it's meant to come across as demanding, forceful, powerful, but he's as timid as a mouse, and he yawns halfway through. yunhos never been an intimidating person anyway, so his pride isn't bruised too much.

"i needed to speak to you, but you fell asleep." he answers nonchalantly as yunho stares back in mild horror. "you look better."

yunho's almost tempted to hit the boy, scream at him, curse him for all the troubles he's caused and storm off.

( _almost_.)

yunho breathes in deeply, but his chest feels restricted. that's when he realises he's covered in a big, thick jacket. it's not yunho's, and it's certainly not mingi's.

flipping the jacket over shows bold embroidery bearing the letters ' _PSH_ '. all those on the tennis team have an identical one, each with personalised initials.

_mingi doesn't play tennis._

suddenly, the blanket is a lot more suffocated than it was a few seconds ago.

mingi clears his throat and tension sticks uncomfortably in the air as he takes the jacket from over yunho, who doesn't dare look back.

"so, what did you want to talk about?" yunho asks with renewed (and false) pep, plastering his signature smile the way he knows best. a smile feels foreign on his face, since his muscles haven't been used at all this week, but as much as yunho would hate to admit it, the idea of the song mingi seeing the worst in yunho strikes a shameful fear into the pit of his heart.

now, mingi takes a deep breath. yunho holds his.

"uhm- _okay_ , there's no easy way to confront you on this, so i'm sorry for being so blunt." ( _god, forgive me for the wrongs i have done and smite me on the spot,_ yunho begs.)

"i was searching on the internet, and _don't be mad at me,_ but i..." (any sentence with ' _don't be mad at me'_ is a red flashing warning)

_"do you have hanahaki disease?"_

there is nothing, _nothing_ , that could prepare yunho for those words to be spoken by none other than mingi, who's watching yunhos reaction with wide eyes and doubt. it feels like the end of the world, but also a sigh of relief.

yunho even laughs, and mingi's brows furrow in confusion.

"i-i mean, it's just because i literally watched you cough up blood and flower petals, and i know that's not normal, and you skip biology a lot-" he's cut off by another manic giggle. mingi waits until yunho stops laughing, annoyance evident on his features.

"yeah. _yeah, i do._ " those words stuttering out of his mouth aren't as funny anymore. they're quiet and sad and _painful_ , and yunho cradles each spoken word in his hands gently. "it doesn't matter, though."

mingi lets out an explosive noise out of protest. yunho (for the first time since waking up) looks up at him, eyebrow raised in question.

"it _does_ matter. it matters if-" yunho nods in understanding.

" _it matters if it's because of me."_

now _this_ , was the end of the world.

mingi's voice is disgustingly soft and sickeningly sympathetic, and his bright eyes are clouded with pity. to see the one you love _sad_ , all because of you, is what sends yunho tumbling down the tunnel of even more guilt and shame. his cheeks are flaring bright red, and hot, prickling tears tease his vision. he laughs again, quieter and more somber.

_"it's not like you can do anything anyway_." that's a lie, a big, fat, _ugly_ lie, and they both know it. for the sake of both of their emotions, mingi doesn't protest this time.

even whilst turned away, yunho knows mingi wants to say something, and as he hears his words forming, yunho turns and gives him a sharp glare. his overspilling eyes shout " _don't_ ", because he knows a stream of apologies sits heavily on mingi's tongue, and yunho doesn't want to hear them, doesn't want to accept what he has to say.

it was easier when mingi didn't have a clue what was going on.

the bell rings signalling for last period. it's biology.

yunho stands up.

"will you be in class?" mingi asks, small and childlike. yunho's heart squeezes. he can't bear to talk back, not whilst he's crying and walking away from _the_ _song_ _mingi_ , so he silently shakes his head and heads for home.

an hour later, when mingi is walking home hand-in-hand with seonghwa, he notices a gutter outside school littered with sunflowers, cherry blossoms, and a strange, sticky red substance. seonghwa doesn't ask why his boyfriend looked so distraught afterwards.

**—**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear it gets better for our boy soon!! for now, i hope you're enjoying the unplanned excessive amount of angst i've written for this book haha!!
> 
> stay safe and take care <333
> 
> also leave a comment n tell me what you think of this book so far!! my writing hasn't been up to scratch recently, so i'm so sorry for the lack of quality !


	11. 𝘰𝘯𝘻𝘦

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

yunho's mother screams.

there is a boy at her door, filthy and red-stained and _choking_.

he is a boy who's so exhausted, he hasn't got the strength to knock on the door, so he slumps against it instead. he is a boy who forgets his mother always leaves the door unlocked for her son when he gets home from school, so when he leans against it, he falls face-first onto the carpet inside the house, and the door smacks into the wall, almost breaking off it's hinges.

that's when yunho's mother comes rushing in from the kitchen, rubber gloves still on, and screams. it's ugly and frightening and chilling.

"yunho? _yunho_! yunho, talk to me!" she screeches, shaking the wheezing lump in front of her. he coughs up slimy red tendrils of sunflower petals.

yunho's mother silently screams bloody murder against song mingi as she rings for an ambulance.

the ambulance arrives ten minutes later, and one minute too late. by the time yunho is strapped to the stretcher, he's barely breathing; unconscious. medical staff rush around horror-like equipment, ready to save the boy on the cusp of death as a few of them comfort his mother.

six minutes pass, and yunho is safely wheeled thrrough ominous, grey doors marked ' _ICU_ '. he's awake for just a second, oxygen mask obstructing his words, and he watches his surroundings flicker in his peripheral vision. it's identical to where he last saw hongjoong, and the aching pain that shoots through his body at the memory sends him back into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

the next time he wakes up, he panics because his eyes are glued shut.

(until he realises it's just eye gunk. he blinks a few times, and his eyes are unstuck. _magic_. not his proudest moment.)

it take him a while to adjust to his surroundings, since the white, luminescent lights are blinding. but with time, he studies the scene surrounding him.

he's on a crisp-sheeted bed that crinkles loudly and smells the opposite of his usual fresh, apple scented bedsheets. beeping and murmuring and typing and faint crying attack his ears as they become more attuned to the hospital. the machines that he's attached to are exactly alike to hongjoong's and, as he swallows the sharp lump in his throat, judging by the way he feels and smells like death, probably looks the same as how he once did.

it's like déjà vu, but from a different perspective, and having a few more inches in height over the last incident.

(he chuckles weakly to himself at that. it's the only way to ease the grief.)

opposite his bed in the ward is a much older woman, strapped to as many machines as yunho himself, and she smiles comfortingly at him. he smiles back. it feels like she knows how he's feeling.

he feels better; warmer. yunho's always been a people person, and after avoiding others for so long, it feels like a calming medicine that soothes the ache in his heart and head.

a nurse walks in, along with his mother. he tries not to stare too much at the dark bags and trembling hands she uses to hold his hands, but instead focuses on her tight-lipped smile of relief as his mom kisses his forehead gently.

"hi yunho, are you feeling any better?" the nurse asks as she flits around his bed, checking screens and pressing button and god knows what else. half the things she's doing yunho doesn't even know, but she does press button that moves up the head of his bed so he can sit upright more comfortably. he sighs, his back feeling much better. he accidentally locks eyes with the woman opposite again, and she makes a point of looking away. yunho doesn't really mind if she listens into his business- he wouldn't blame her, what with the lack of entertainment in this ward.

"a lot better, thanks," he answers hoarsely, and his mother hands him a cup with a straw. he wants to protest, but-

"yes, it's plastic, and the turtles won't like it, i know. you have to use it, don't be fussy," his mother says sternly, taking the words out of his mouth. there's the familiar twinkle in her eye that they both share, though. she's taken the words out of his mouth.

it's nice interacting with his mom properly again, after the few torturous weeks of locking himself in his room. he hadn't realised how much he missed it. it feels... normal.

thinking of all the missed opportunities and what-could-have-beens makes it easier for yunho to be angry at song mingi.

the nurse interrogates yunho a bit more and occasionally jots things down onto a clipboard with a scratchy blue pen. a doctor arrives, tall and beady-eyed, and pulls the curtain around his bed for privacy. yunho kind of misses the comforting woman opposite.

"so, yunho," the doctor starts, "tell me what you remember last."

"i remember being wheeled into hospital, but i don't really remember what happened before that." the doctor writes a few things, his mom chews her lip. it's a habit she constantly scolds yunho for, but he hasn't the heart to tell her to stop.

"that was thirty-two hours ago." no wonder he was so thirsty. "do you know what happened?"

he glances at his mom with uncertainty. she nods back at him encouragingly, drawing soft circles on the back of his hand with her fingers.

"your mother has already explained your illness to us," the doctor carries on, a friendly smile at his lips, "we just need to know what caused you to become in such a severe state."

so, with a deep breath, he recounts all that he recalls. he talks about song mingi, the boy who so innocently asked him forthright wether he had the disease. who treated him so kindly but consequently left him choking into a gutter, puking up his guts until he had nothing left to give. he hesitantly talks about the grief he's endured, and the guilt of losing the boy he loved, but didn't love enough.

thick streams of tears frame his face once he finishes everything relevant for the medical professionals to help him. his mother kisses him on the cheek again and murmurs soft words as she wipes his puffy face. the doctor talks about therapy; grief counselling for his loss and also for the mental side effects of hanahaki disease.

"over the past decade, more and more people have developed hanahaki disease," the doctor tells him, "so hospitals all over south korea have reserved specific wards suited for all patients who suffer from it. that's where you are right now." he's surprised, but now the comforting neighbour who'd smiled at him makes more sense.

"we're still trying to find a proper cure for it, but for now, therapy seems to ease the symptoms." the doctor checks his clipboard. "you're eighteen now, right? that means you're eligible for surgery."

surgery. he's read about it.

to cure hanahaki disease effectively, surgeons perform a type of brain surgery that scans the minuscule part of the medulla that makes the body produce excess blood and flower petals when patients vomit, and carefully removes it. this then alters it's connection to the hippocampus, which makes the patient forget what they once associated with the blood and petals, thus making them lose their memory and forget most things about the person they love.

it's dangerous, especially since it's his brain, and a lot could go wrong, so yunho is rightfully hesitant. but also, call him selfish, but he doesn't really want to let go of the disease.

it sounds crazy. _hell_ , it is crazy. but yunho's sole purpose in life has been loving song mingi, and without that, he's nothing. _who is he, without this disease?_

he is the shell of a boy who was once so bubbly, so carefree, so lively. who lived for himself, and himself only. who loved everyone so equally, and handed people his heart on a silver platter so fearlessly. a boy who was never scared to love and to show it.

can he go back to being that person?

"get some rest, sweetheart. i'll be right here," his mom says soothingly. he snaps out of his thoughts, to see the sun outside starting to set, the curtains around his bed drawn, and the doctor nowhere to be seen.

"go home, eomma. i'll be fine here," he says reassuringly. his smile mirrors his mother's (thankfully, something he'd inherited through lucky genes), and she clicks his tongue appreciatively.

"my boy, always so thoughtful of others. if you need me, tell the nurses, i'm five minutes away."

and with that, he falls into a slumber so deep, he dreams.

a dream is better than a nightmare, even if hongjoong still plagues every scene.

he's sitting in a field, the summer sun blazing ahead, wind ruffling his hair. there's a giggle from his left, and when he looks, there's hongjoong. hongjoong, with his ketchup hair and pink-painted lips, laughing at the sky, and then at yunho's confused expression.

"that cloud looks like a lion, don't you think, yun?"

hongjoong points at his cloud, but the cloud looks more like a flower to yunho. more so, a cartoonish cloud version of a sunflower.

suddenly, the sky grows darker and sunflower clouds sweep through the once-blue sky and leave it cloudy and depressing.

a dream disguised as a nightmare.

"you love me, don't you yunho?" asks hongjoong forcefully, smiling. "you love me, _right_?"

there's a large lump that throbs at the back of his throat as confusion transforms into fear. he nods, but the movement is stuttered.

"don't you love me, yunho? _yunho-yah, you love me right?_ tell me you love me!" hongjoong repeats, tugging at his sleeve. the redhead's tugging grows more erratic, and his smile is stretched painfully across his face, baring his teeth. he repeats his questions, frantic and feverish, not leaving yunho any room to answer.

he blinks, and then hongjoong is mingi, song mingi, and he's still pulling at yunho's sleeve. the clouds turn ashy, and the faint rolls of thunder crash overhead.

"you love me, right yunho? yunho, you do love me, don't you?" he asks again and again in his rough voice. yunho feels like he's going insane.

"yunho? _yunho_!" there's something still gripping at his sleeve, but his eyes fly open, and he gasps for breath.

_it's not real._

"honey, are you okay? are you having nightmares?" a nurse he doesn't recognise asks sickeningly sweet, ceasing her tugging.

yunho's mouth is dry and he's sweat through his sheets. _gross_.

yunho nods and shakily drinks the sleeping pills that are handed to him wordlessly.

_surgery_ , he thinks, _tomorrow i will ask for surgery._

**_—_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha it's been a while, right? sorry about that. only a few more chapters left to go! i promise it'll get better for yun, i swear!


	12. 𝘰𝘯𝘻𝘦

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "why won't you love me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll pretend it didn't take me a month to update.
> 
> stay safe n take care as always guys !! <3

"hey honey, how are you feeling?" his mother asks gently as she sweeps sweaty hair out of her son's eyes.

yunho's just beginning to stir.

he's mumbling something, but it's incoherent- not even he knows what he's saying.

" _mr_ _jeong_? blink twice if you can hear me." another voice (it's his primary doctor, he realises) says, to which he obeys.

"okay, good. i'll do a recap of the past thirty-six hours, if that's good with you?" his doctor asks. he twitches in response; a weak attempt at a nod.

"thirty-six hours ago, you underwent brain surgery to remove parts of the medulla to alter your memories and cease the physical side effects of hanahaki disease. from what we can see, it was extremely successful, though we still need to run a few brain scans and tests to see how your brain responds towards the person you were in love with and monitor those side effects, if there's any. if all is well, then you can be discharged in a few days time, and cognitive therapy won't be needed. however, if any side effects do pop up over time, then national health services are happy to provide free therapy- don't worry about remembering this now, your mother has all the details. how are you feeling?"

yunho feels like he's swimming through his mind. he says something like " _good_ , _thanks_ ", but it sounds muffled and echoey through his ears, and his tongue feels scratchy, now that it's unstuck from the roof of his mouth. the doctor takes it though, and says he'll be back in half an hour to run the scans. his mother sits beside him, looking fit to burst with questions to ask.

there's an overflowing wave of emotion bubbling in the pit of his stomach, strangling his organs and suddenly, he's crying. fat tears roll down his cheeks and choking sobs force their way past his lips, leaving his chest heaving.

"oh, honey what's wrong? are you in pain?" his mom asks, cradling his head in her arms and placing kisses on his forehead.

maybe he crying now because it's just hitting him now that he's had life-changing surgery. and the fluttery, floaty feeling that he experiences like a sixth sense when he thinks about a certain starry-eyed boy is **gone**.

he's not in love with song mingi anymore. thankfully, he still does remember that name. and he still remembers his fluffy chestnut hair and gummy smile and crooked teeth; his animal-printed bandaids and marker-ridden sneakers. but knowing all these things feels stalkerish, intruding, now there isn't a spark that alights when he thinks about them. he knows _too_ _much_ about the boy, now that his heart beats a different tune to that name.

his heart feels broken. like he's mourning for the love that was never reciprocated, like the slight hope that maybe, truly, song mingi could've grown to like (no, _love_ ) him back one day has finally been killed. it hurts, it's suffocating, but perhaps, it's for the best.

he stays in a sniffly, watery state until the doctor returns to ask him about things he remembers, and how he's feeling. the questions range from "who's the president of south korea?" to "do you remember the incidents in which song mingi helped you when you where getting bullied?", and by the end of it, he's left feeling like a wrung-out towel, empty and exhausted. he's then wheeled into room filled with a huge scanner, where he has to lie down and try not to fall asleep for two hours (it's harder than it seems).

his test results remain a success story. he's fit to go home tomorrow, if he wishes.

as he's wheeled back into his ward, with the sunset glow lazily washing the hospital, the old woman opposite his bed smiles at him, like she does so often. it's a shame he's too tired to hold a conversation with her. he smiles the best he can until his he'd flops back onto his pillow, and he's unconscious to the world, out like a light.

**–**

mingi's been on edge for the entire week now.

because ever since he saw the back of yunho leaving after their talk outside, the other has been absent from school since. nobody else seems as perturbed by this as himself, but with each day that passes, more of his friends question wether he's feeling alright.

" _god_ , min, just eat a fry or something! _please_ ," san begs, waving the limp food by his glazed eyes. his boyfriend sits beside him, staring concerningly. but even as mingi tries to distract himself, the cafeteria doesn't feel the same without a tuft of brown hair peeking around the corner of his eyes, failing to make itself smaller.

seonghwa is a sweet guy. the perfect boyfriend; takes you on dates and remembers the small things. he'll even buy a pint of mint-choco ice cream for their movie night, even though every time he tries to grow to it's taste, he still scrunches his nose in disgust. more for mingi, anyway. half of his boyfriend's year group is crushing on him, and honestly, mingi's not sure what seonghwa sees in him. he's kind of a boring person anyways- average at school, not particularly creative, and mingi's positive seonghwa isn't dating him because of his 'infamous' rap skills.

the sunflower bouquet in his locker is starting to wilt, and he hasn't hung out with seonghwa outside of school during this week of moping. what a terrible boyfriend he's been.

he takes the sad little fry san's greasy fingers were holding, and chews moodily, searching for the blandest piece of decor around the lunch hall to stare at so he can disappear into his own thoughts. his friends start up a new conversation around him as he picks at a second, equally depressing looking fry. he's kinda tired, maybe he'll just take a nap for a second or something, and-

"yo, isn't that yunho? he's not been in school for ages," san states. mingi's head whips up and his eyes focus on a tall, blushing giant that's standing very awkwardly in the middle of the cafeteria.

"yeah. hm, hope he's okay," jongho answers mindlessly. some younger students have claimed yunho's usual table for the past week, so the boy looks like an estranged puppy, blush evergrowing desperately searching for a free spot to sit at. some other kids that have noticed him are starting to point and snicker now, and oh god, does mingi need to rescue him from whatever this is?

yunho walks straight out of the room wordlessly, just as mingi goes to stand up.

fuck, now all his friends are staring at him weirdly.

"uh, mingi?" wooyoung asks with brows furrowed. his friends seem genuinely worried for him right now. like he's got a ' _fragile: handle with care!_ ' label attached to his forehead.

"...i'm just going to throw the fries away," he manages to force through a tight throat, and, with lumpy fries in hand, goes to carry out the weak alibi he's made. god, he's stupid. _what's up with him? why's he acting so weird?_

he returns back to their table (amidst the badly covered up concerned scrutiny from his peers) and puts his arm around seonghwa as he joins in with the conversation his friends are having (ignoring his boyfriend's pleasantly surprised expression).

**–**

mingi's just minding his business at the end of biology when something grasps at his sleeve, making him turn around. he's ready to curse someone out, until he's face-to-face with a chocolate-y haired giant, who's smiling nervously back at him. mingi notices for the first time they're the same height (the boy is always hanging his head when he speaks to mingi, like he's trying to hide himself, so mingi had always been under the impression he was shorter than mingi himself. maybe if he squints, then the other is actually slightly taller than him. somehow, he finds himself blushing at this. _wait_ , _what_?)

"hey," yunho says (he has very nice lips, now that they're not chapped the way they'd last spoken), "uh, sorry, is this awkward?" he lets go of mingi's arm and takes a step back. the smile never wavers. never, in their years of knowing and interacting with each other, has yunho ever been so confident. it's weirdly... _nice_.

mingi must've been looking gobsmacked for a second too long.

"what? oh, no, it's okay. what's up?" now _he's_ the one stuttering. the role reversal of their characters is turning mingi in a tailspin. he can feel his mouth dry and his fingers itching to fiddle with something.

"i just wanted to say... sorry? i know the two of us have a... very complicated past, to put it lightly," he chuckles, and mingi laughs nervously back, "but hopefully, we can put it behind us? you know, no weird feelings or anything. i know 'sorry' is a bit of an understatement regarding all the stuff i've put you through, but it's the best i can offer. you don't even have to speak to me, if it freaks you out. i just felt like i needed to apologise for your sake and to get it off my chest." the boy breathes a sigh of relief, as if it's something that's been weighjng down his soul for an eternity.

mingi's... _speechless_. is this the same yunho?

the yunho who's so infamously in love with him? the boy who can barely look him in the eye, let alone string a few words together and call it a sentence in front of him?

he's got a million questions, and yunho looks like he has all the time in the world. for someone saying sorry for a hundred past situations, he should not be looking so calm right now.

"are you- what about your.. your..."

"my disease?" he's even got the nerve to laugh about his illness. "it's all gone," yunho laughs, his eyes twinkling in joy. he carries on, in spite of mingi's silence. "had surgery, that's why i was off school, 'n now i'm back." he's still smiling.

"so your..." it's embarrassing how unconfident he sounds and feels right now; nothing like himself. is this some weird fever dream his messed-up mind has managed to conjure up? is he gonna wake up anytime soon?

" _my_...?" yunho singsongs, prompting him to continue. mingi thought he'd never see the day jeong yunho would tease him, but, here we are. he clears his throat uncomfortably.

"so your feelings, they're not, um, there? i mean, for me?" ( _real smooth, mingi_.)

yunho chuckles again. "nope, all gone. so the friend offer is very much open!" he sticks his hand out, to which mingi obliges, and they shake hands.

_friends_.

"okay, well, have a good rest of your day then!" yunho declares with renewed enthusiasm, and walks away to his next class, leaving mingi stranded in the middle of the corridor, standing there, mouth open and closing like a fish stupidly.

he's not sure how long he's left standing there (can't be more than ten minutes, he's convinced himself), but he finds seonghwa waving his hand in front of his face not long after, asking him out of a feverish daze.

"mingi, hey, _mingi_? are you okay?" he asks.

"uh, yeah, i'm good, thanks," he responds, probably looking anything but. his stomach feels like it's been flipped inside out.

but inside, his insides feel warm, _lighter_.

_friends_.

—


End file.
